


Two-in-Hand

by st_aurafina



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crisis is over, and Ichabod is in the stables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two-in-Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brightknightie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightknightie/gifts).



The darkness had thinned by the time they had driven off the supernatural threat. Abbie took charge of the bureaucratic part of the clean-up, which left Ichabod exploring the farm. She found him at the stables, where curious heads poked out over stable doors to observe this stranger. The staff were still held back behind an evacuation barrier, but the horses here seemed calm and not doing… things that horses might do if they were panicked. Perhaps Ichabod had some kind of positive influence? He stood at an open half-door, his hands on a big grey horse. 

Abbie juggled the cardboard tray of coffees she had brought while she watched him scratch behind the horse's ear. He seemed to know what he was doing; the horse leaned into his hand with eyes closed in bliss. "Do you miss it? Riding, I mean." 

"I had never thought it a thing to miss," he said. "Horses were ever-present; I could not forsee a time when I would go for days without riding one." He gestured to the rest of the yard. "I take it from all this luxury that it is now a sport of privilege. Do you ride, Lieutenant?" 

"Do I look like I come from the horsey set?" Abbie gave a sharp bark of laughter, but did not come any closer to the giant animal. "Once, I did, at the State Fair. They put you on a pony and lead you up and down. I would have rather ridden the Tilt-a-Whirl. At least it doesn't have a brain. It kind of freaks me out, the idea of sitting on a thing that can think and make decisions." 

She expected Ichabod to give that smile that was part confusion and part politeness, then inquire about the nature of the Tilt-a-Whirl. Instead, his expression was wry. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew something she didn't.

"What is that look?" She handed him a paper cup with a sugar cookie balanced on top.

"It is merely a look, Lieutenant." 

"Tell me," she said. "You're making me nervous, all this knowing and smiling." 

Ichabod sipped his coffee, while the grey horse nibbled gently at his collar. "I find your fear surprising. Not because I doubt your courage – that you are brave goes without saying – but that you find the idea of working in concert with another being perplexing, when it is one of your great skills." 

"Teamwork is nothing like riding a horse. A horse weighs a ton. A horse can run away with you on his back." 

"Oh, but it is entirely a matter of teamwork, as you say. Here, a demonstration." Ichabod broke a piece from the cookie. The grey horse stretched out his neck to grab for the treat, but Ichabod held it out of reach. "Manners, sir," he chided, and passed the piece to Abbie. 

Abbie took it, dubiously. "I don't think that's a good idea. Don't you see its teeth? They're big. And yellow." 

"But not sharp," said Ichabod. "And not usually used in anger." He shaped her hand so that it was completely flat, fingers held well out of the way, and placed the cookie on her palm. "Try not to show fear; horses are uncommonly good at determining our state of mind." 

Abbie took slow, deep breaths, and told herself she had faced much more frightening things. The horse arched his neck over her hand, and with surprising delicacy, lifted the treat from her palm. Abbie felt soft, whiskery lips brush her palm, and then it was over. 

"See?" Ichabod was unreasonably pleased with himself. "I think you would make an excellent equestrienne. Perhaps we could arrange a lesson?" 

Abbie brushed her hand on her pants and laughed again, this time without cynicism. "That would be a sight. Maybe, if we hold off the apocalypse, I'll take you up on the offer." 

"That would make for a very civilised appointment," said Ichabod. "I believe I will hold you to that promise." 

The sun had crept higher, now. Captain Irving would want a long, sanitised report, but Ichabod was practiced now at keeping him off balance long enough for Abbie to file paperwork. It was all about teamwork, and knowing each other's strengths. 

The clatter of feet and voices meant people were returning to the barn. The horses whickered softly and happily at their keepers' approach, and it sounded like hope.


End file.
